


Watch Him As He Goes

by LoadedGunn



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M, Photojournalist/Reporter, Superheroes, also there's beyonce and vague zayn ships and sex toys in the end, and blowjob, harry loves penguins, louis loves fighting crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-05 16:45:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1096235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoadedGunn/pseuds/LoadedGunn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It's why Harry loves assignments with Louis; they're thrilling in a way. It's like he never rests. He's this animated, gorgeous guy who's all over the place and Harry actually has to work hard just to catch up to him.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>It kind of reminds him of trying to stalk a predator stalking its prey, with his old 70-300 mm lens. Only the predator is a cheeky arsehole. "Come along Harold, I know you usually wait for your zebras to pose for you but here you've got to think on your feet," Louis yelled one time, before disappearing to interview Detective Payne. Never mind the fact Harry was slow in the first place because of Louis' tight jeans.</i>
</p><p>Or, the AU where Louis' the best police reporter in the country, Harry's the new photographer who is more used to penguins than human subjects, and also there are superheroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watch Him As He Goes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iwontseecadyagain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwontseecadyagain/gifts).



> **Happy holidays lovely iwontseecadyagain!** Don't even ask me how I got from "maybe something involving journalism" to "HARRY IS PETER PARKER IN LOVE WITH CLARK KENT BUT ACTUALLY PENGUINS".  
>  Superhero costumes based on [this](http://harrypopsz.tumblr.com/tagged/myart) timeless art!
> 
> Thank you Leah, Lila and Sarah for the beta, help and support!

5 rules to being a serious photographer in a ridiculous 'verse

**#1: Work With The Reporter**

"These shots are very good," Ben says, clicking through the flash drive Harry's just handed over.

Harry nods politely. "Thanks, boss."

Ben rolls his eyes, the way he does whenever Harry's overly formal. "Was there a problem? Did you get yelled at again?"

Harry pinches his bottom lip between his fingers, trying to smile. It's been a couple of weeks since someone yelled at him. He doesn't want to break the streak. It's sort of remarkable that his month at 1Daily has thickened his skin more than six months spent on King George Island. Who knew that taking pictures of his penguin colony wouldn't prepare him for taking pictures of people with short fuses?

He shrugs. "No yelling. Just."

"Yeah?"

"Like, don't the pictures look the same as any other picture I've taken this week? I get why every event is important for the paper, but." But every day in the wild was different – whether he found a new penguin or caught a funny interaction or the sun was setting just right wherever they were. Every day was magic. Now things are getting a bit grey.

"But you miss the action of taking pictures of lion prides," Ben guesses.

It sounds a lot more badass than penguins flopping all over each other, so Harry doesn't argue. "A bit, yeah."

Harry's been into photography since he was a kid, and always found himself drawn to wildlife. He's 24 now, and still hasn't experienced anything more calming than poising himself in a jungle and waiting for exotic birds to come to him. He'd been a good fit for Nat Geo from the start, and always took on the most demanding assignments. Like tracking a penguin colony in Antarctica. Penguins are adorable motherfuckers, anyone could tell you that. Especially coupled with Weddell seals. Obviously there was more to it – like research and ice caps and stuff, but Harry was always careful not to step on any scientist's toes.

Harry just… connected with the flightless birds. They're chill and clumsy and ridiculous. Harry likes to think he's pretty chill himself.  When he came back to England he was paler and happier than he had been when he left, and spent days at aquariums, like he could communicate with the Chinstrap penguins. They weren't his Gentoos, but they were, indeed, cute motherfuckers. Tiny birds with built-in _headwraps_.

When his boss asked if he'd be willing to stay local for six months and work for a newspaper, Harry, being chill, sort of rolled with it. It had been a few years since he got some uninterrupted time at home. He thought maybe he could finally get a cat.

So he was pawned off from Morgan to Ben, who's a cool guy, and from penguins to people, who. Well. Harry had to get used to that.

Being a kind-hearted, free-spirited nature photographer is quite different to being a serious photojournalist. It's not that he doesn't get along with people, and when he does an assignment about the oldest dog in Manchester or a group of volunteers who do charity runs he even really loves what he does. But most of the time he just gets sent out to cover ceremonies or political committee benefits or approaching storm clouds. "It just gets a bit boring, is all," he told Gemma. "From how many angles can you shoot the same MP and still call it journalism?"

"If anyone can do it, it's you," she said, for once forgoing the usual lip. "You made elephant seals interesting, and they're ugly as fuck."

"Hey, they're cool," he immediately defended the ugly things. "They didn't yell at me to get out of their faces."

She had to cover her mouth to stifle her laugh. "A politician yelled at you?"

He fidgeted. "A lottery winner."

"Oh my _god_."

Today he’d been at a benefit they were covering because Simon owed the place a favour, and there wasn't even a reporter there, so it was just Harry walking around and taking pictures of uncooperative people he didn't know.

So, yeah. He sort of misses taking pictures of lion prides.

Ben hums in thought. "D'you have any plans tonight?"

Well, that took a turn. Harry maybe drops his voice a bit and cants his hips. "Nope, definitely not, free as a bird."

"A few minutes ago the chief constable of the GMP announced a press conference at the site of a large drug bust. The senior photographers are all on assignments I don't wanna pull them out of. Care to take a crack?"

A little less romantic of a proposition, but Harry immediately brightens anyway. "Was that a pun?"

Ben smirks. "Yes. They found cocaine."

"Oh, like a proper bust? With drugs? Think I'll get to see one of – " At Ben's eyebrow raise Harry clears his throat. "Sure, yeah, sounds cool."

The logistics catch up to him suddenly. He's never covered a police story, and doesn't know anyone in the force. He guesses if it's a press conference he could just follow people's lead, but that's not the best he can come up with. "What, um. What kind of shot are you after?"

Ben claps a reassuring hand on his back. "Mate, you're going to work with the best police reporter in the country. Listen to him and you'll do brilliantly."

Oh. At least this time he's tagging along to a reporter. "Shouldn't I listen to the editor?"

He snorts. "Louis' practically running the whole editorial department, no worries."

For some reason, that doesn't make him less nervous. "He's nice then?"

"Well." That doesn't sound good. "He's not particularly sweet? But he'll take care of you. As long as you're there on time."

"Right." He wants to ask him more, but Ben's already been very patient with Harry's readjustment to spending time with humans, and he doesn't want to come off as too weird. He grabs his camera bag and takes the flash drive back from Ben. "I won't let you down!"

He's not late, thank god. The warehouse is damp and ominous in a way coke labs should be, and the telly crews have already set up projectors that cast a harsh, artificial light on everything. Harry's never met the police reporter before, but he’s made it a point to save all the reporters' numbers on his phone, despite the animosity between their department, headed by news editor Zayn, and Harry's department, headed by Ben. The line's busy when he tries to ring one Louis Tomlinson.

He huffs and considers just grabbing a random officer and asking him when the party's starting, when suddenly a hand materialises out of nowhere on his shoulder. "Yo, you Harry Styles?"

"Yup," he says immediately, turning around. "Nice to – " His words actually die in his throat.

Seeing Louis Tomlinson reminds him of the first time he's photographed Northern lights, rare and breathtaking. Harry's transfixed, immediately, by the brightness of his eyes and the sharpness of his features, how he looks rough and soft, barely contained in his small frame. Harry doesn't know yet how special Louis actually is, but from the get-go he can tell he's different.

"Good, I'm Louis, get a move on. You okay?"

Harry shakes his head roughly. The weird feeling that took hold of him is starting to dissipate, turning Louis from _celestial phenomenon_ to _very fit_. It was probably just shock. From Ben's introduction, he'd expected a middle-aged, grey-haired ex-cop who'd be rude to him. Meeting a short, soft-haired, scruffy blue-eyed hot guy with thick-rimmed hipster-ish glasses is worthy of exaggerated metaphors and doubletakes and use of hyphens, even if Harry sees the likes of Ben Winston and Zayn Malik every day. Louis is like. The difference between an Adelie and a Rockhopper. "I'm okay," he says finally. "I don't think we've worked together before?"

"No, I would've. Remembered you." He gestures vaguely to Harry's everywhere, looking distracted for just a second before regaining his business front. "Here's what's gonna happen. See the chief superintendent there? Stocky, looks weirdly like Susan Boyle?"

Harry nods, looking at where Louis' pointing and definitely not at his delicate fingers. "Yeah."

"He's going to come forward, wave some coke around, talk about the amazing work his officers have done, whatever. I want, like, two shots of that, nothing more. That's what everyone else is gonna have, I don't care about that."

"So what do you want?"

"Oh, young Harold, so many things," Louis sighs, tapping on Harry's shoulder and startling him into a laugh. "If I know the DCS, and I do, he held his detectives back here to brief him before the conference. What I want is to find the lead detective, get him to show me where the lab was set up, and recreate the bust."

Harry curls his camera straps around his fingers. "And me?"

"You try to keep up," Louis says simply, smirking.

Harry smiles at the joke.

Only, it wasn't a joke at all. Louis' only tiny but his stride is sure and his button-up and tight jeans combo gets him past the crowd in seconds. He's just zipping all over the place, exchanging handshakes with the highest-ranking officer and laddy back-thumps with the rest. Harry takes pictures of everyone, more concerned with pleasing Louis' editor than his own boss. It doesn't take long for Louis to find the detective he wanted – a square-jawed guy with intense eyebrows and biceps that stretch his uniform.

Usually Harry would shake his hand and offer water or a joke, but the officer is staring him down suspiciously. "New guy?" he asks Louis.

Louis puts a hand on Harry's back again. "He's mine, don't worry."

Which. Doesn't please him to, like, an unhealthy level. He's good. The officer's face immediately softens, apparently taking Louis' word for it. "Come along then," he says, leading them past police lines like they were nothing.

Harry doesn't say anything, doesn't dare rock the boat when he's starting to get excited. The damp, ominous warehouse only gets damper and ominous...er as they go, and there's a sharp smell in the air that must mean something to Louis because he starts asking questions about it.

Harry tries listening, but he's too focused on his surroundings at the moment. His camera's already working more than it had for two weeks, as he shoots the tanks and acids. By the time he looks up, Louis' twenty steps ahead, writing furiously in his notebook as the detective speaks.

"What about the leaders? Are they supervillains? Management?" Louis asks in quick sequence.

The detective rolls his eyes, annoyed but still good-natured. "I can't confirm who the ringleader is during the investigation, Tommo."

"But you fucking hate Management, don't you?" he pushes. Harry widens his eyes in suspense.

The detective laughs too loudly in the dank warehouse. "Not as much as you, mate. Need more?"

Louis reads over his notes quickly. "Always. But nothing you can give me."

"I'll call you next time before the bust, so you can do the arresting yourself," the detective suggests, smirking. Louis looks hopeful for one second before he punches his arm.

"See Harold, this is why you don't trust the law. Long arm and all, but they'll always leave you with blue balls."

Harry snorts a laugh, stunned by Louis' brashness in front of a police officer, and by being addressed at all. He was just starting to blend into the scenery. "Never had a thing for the uniform, sorry mate," he says, nodding to the detective. "Handcuffs, on the other hand…"

His penguins never warranted a brain-to-mouth filter. Harry just says whatever pops in his head. At least Louis and the officer look amused. "Cheeky. I like your new boy," he says to Louis. "Harold, right?"

Harry chews on his lower lip. "Just Harry's fine."

"I'm Detective Payne. Do _you_ need anything more?"

Harry nods immediately. His turn. "I'm gonna switch lenses, I want you by this table like you're just charging in. Then we'll sneak back out and take a picture of you with the actual drugs. Can you please pull it out?"

Louis coughs into the back of his hand, overcome with giggles. Harry hipchecks him. "Your weapon, I mean."

Payne gives him a friendly smile. "Since you asked nicely. Take notes, Tommo."

"Yeah, yeah," Louis mumbles, already flipping through his notebook with one hand and texting with the other.

Once Harry's satisfied, they head back out to catch up with the press conference. Louis must have been serious about not caring: he keeps delivering snarky commentary into Harry's ear while the higher-ups speak. "I'm telling you, the only good ones are Liam and Niall. Soon the chief superintendent is being replaced and we can only pray the new one's got what it takes. Knowing Andy, though, he'll need Liam to save his arse anyway."

"You already know the new one?" Harry asks quietly. "How long have you been covering this field?"

"Six years, mate. I know them all since before they got the crowns over their pips. Two years ago the station gave me my own uniform, as a joke. Not that you're into that," he adds in a softer voice. Harry's finger slips on the shutter. When he looks over, Louis' smirking right at him.

So Louis' a bit of a twat.

Once the press conference is over Louis zips over to the speaker, the chief superintendent. Harry bounds after him and takes extensive pictures of the loot, courtesy of people moving the fuck out of the way when Louis ran off.

Louis taps his shoulder after a while, and Harry accidentally takes a picture of him before he remembers to lower his camera. Louis just blinks at his flash, suddenly overwhelmed. Harry's staring. Louis recovers. "Listen, I'm gonna trail after them to the HQ and scratch some backs."

"Cool, I'll just grab my jacket," Harry says, already turning around.

"Oh, you – wanna join?"

He pauses. "Well, I mean. You don't need me there?" Before Louis can answer, Harry adds, "I honestly don't mind. This is the most action I've seen since I joined 1D. And I'm a great back-scratcher." He raises his hands and wiggles his fingers, sort of suggestively.

Louis arches an eyebrow. "Yeah, your girlfriend told you that?"

 _Interesting._ Harry shrugs, smirking and not giving a definitive answer. Louis ends up rolling his eyes. "Fine, wheels up in five. I'll give you a ride home after."

Of course it's a Ford Focus. "Did you hijack a panda car?" Harry asks while strapping in.

"You've gotta blend in," Louis confesses. And proceeds to drive like a _fucking maniac_.

Harry clutches his equipment close to his chest and tries to focus on anything but the road, like Louis' profile, or hands, or how they're trailing actual police cars so they'll receive medical attention as soon as Louis runs into a tree.

"This is blending in?" he asks through clenched teeth.

Louis looks at him, and he must seem a right state because Louis starts cackling. "Mate, this is hardly as fast as I can go. We're almost there."

Oh god. Harry remembers his breathing exercises. He knew yoga would come in handy.

They only spend half an hour at the station. Harry doesn't actually have anything to take pictures of, but it's nice nonetheless. He's never been inside of a police station before, so he feels a bit like a kid. Which is to say he charms a couple of officers to pose with him like he's being arrested or brought into custody or generally handcuffed. It's _awesome_. He's going to send the pictures to his mum without context. "I feel like a stripper," he mumbles, making the officer cuffing him laugh. He hopes the one taking the picture catches it.

His little tour gives Louis the chance to sneak into the boss' office and get more quotes, so when Louis reappears, he's quite chuffed with Harry. That's Harry's interpretation, at least, when Louis claps him on the back and says, "Jesy, do release my boy."

The officer snarls at Louis, but uncuffs Harry with a big smile. "He giving you any trouble? I can arrest him y'know."

"It's been five minutes, how are you already on his side?" Louis asks, pouting.

"Because he's so _cute,_ with his T-shirt and headband," she explains. Harry's usually all for being cheeky, but right now he doesn't feel up to weighing in. He's getting fairly flustered by two very attractive people talking about him like he's not there.

"I'm half his size, I'm much cu – you know what, he can have cute, I'll stick with intimidating and rugged."

She snorts.

Louis grabs Harry's shoulders and drags him out of the precinct. Harry makes it halfway through the car park when he realises he's still holding the handcuffs. He makes to turn around, but Louis' hold on his arm tightens, since he deemed it necessary to lead Harry all the way to the car. "What are you doing?" Louis asks.

"I. I forgot." He waves the handcuffs, which make an awful, _conspicuous_ sound in the otherwise empty car park.

"Oh, that's alright," Louis says, without a second thought.

Harry widens his eyes. "I can't steal police equipment from a police station. That's like. A tripe felony. I can't go to prison, Louis, my mum will have a heart attack."

"Well, _I_ thought you wanted some action," Louis teases, still not letting up his hold on him. For some reason, Harry doesn't shrug him off. "And it's a summary offence at worst, you need to brush up on your lingo if you wanna work this field."

"That's what I have you for."

Louis looks back, sharp smirk bringing out his sharper cheekbones. "Oh, you have me now?"

The handcuffs are burning a hole in his pocket. He misses his penguins. "That the car?" he asks awkwardly. Louis' eyes are still twinkling at him even as he unlocks it.

They're twenty minutes out of Harry's flat, so Louis lets Harry drive them there in favour of transferring the pictures from tonight to his laptop. He's thumbing through them on the camera, humming to himself until Harry's wracked with nerves. He knows for a fact Louis did a great job tonight; he wouldn't want his pictures to bring him down. "Are they, um. Good?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, brilliant. I like how you directed Liam, I didn't think of that." He's saying it offhandedly, but Harry draws confidence from it still, smiling to himself. So he's not really prepared for when Louis says, "Are those… what?"

His life flashes before his eyes, and he glances at the display screen – thank god, not the nudes. It's the close-ups he got of the chicks in the middle of December. He doesn't know why, but he never got to deleting the pictures from his memory card. It's probably dumb, since they take up space, but. It comforts him to know they're there. That they haven't left him. Plus, like. Fluffy baby penguins.

"Gentoo penguins," he explains. "I used to work for National Geographic."

"You took these?" Louis asks, zooming in with his thumb and pushing his glasses up. "They're _sick_ , where was it?"

Now he's definitely preening, drumming his fingers on the wheel. "King George Island. I was there for six months."

"Wow. What made you come back to civilisation?"

"I wanted to adopt a cat, mostly." The deafening silence makes him look over, finding Louis staring at him. " _What_ , you can't adopt a cat in Antarctica."

"You're a bit quirky, aren't you?"

"Part of my charm."

"Charmed a lot of birds in your day?"

Harry's grinning at the double entendre. "Oh, loads. Did wonders for my self-esteem."

"Did it get lonely?" Louis asks, not even pretending to look at the camera now.

Harry shrugs. "Sometimes. Doesn't it for you?"

"Oi, I'm doing the interviewing here."

He takes advantage of a red light to pout at Louis. Ridiculously. It doesn't seem to be working; Louis' just squinting at him, and then tugs on his headscarf, which is quite rude. Harry bats his hand away. "C'mon, indulge me."

"Well," Louis starts, dragging out the word in his pretty voice. "I'd be bored out of my fucking mind running around after penguins. I'd wanna be…"

"Where the people are?" Harry completes, trying valiantly to contain his smile.

"Yeah, I wanna see…" He trails off, like he only just got it. Harry's helpless not to smile now. This is truly testing their budding friendship. "Wanna see 'em dancing." And Louis passed with flying colours.

They sing all the way to the high note, where Louis breaks off in peals of laughter and it really is a bit magic. "So you can sing, you've got huge green eyes and an adorable animal companion," Louis counts, pointing at the penguin picture still in his lap. "Sure you're not from a Disney movie?"

"I doubt I'd be a very good princess," Harry admits sadly. "Too many tattoos."

Louis' eyebrow quirks in interest. His voice is very controlled when he says, "Looking for a prince, though?"

"How come you're turning me into the mermaid when it's you who's fishing right now?"

Louis scowls at the rearview mirror. "Well _excuse me_ , if you wanna be a mysterious mythical half-fish _immune_ to my interviewing skills – "

"Oh my god, Louis – "

"No, no, I don't even _want_ to know, I dunno why I asked – "

" _Yes,_ I'm single," he cuts him off. Louis just smiles. "Christ, do you bully your sources for information?"

"Only when they're easily flustered."

Harry can't even argue. He's extremely flustered. There's a heavy silence, until he mutters, "Are you – "

"Look, it finished transferring! And you've been circling this block for five minutes." Louis taps his temple and smiles at Harry innocently. Right, whatever. Sharp reporter skills.

He comes to a stop outside of his flat complex while Louis unplugs the memory card reader. "D'you wanna go over the pictures together?"

"Nah mate, I'll type up the item and then pick out a few photos to send over to Zayn. Going for the front page."

Harry perks up a bit. Weirdly enough, he's less excited about his first front page than he is about Louis thinking he's good enough. So he goes for broke. Just in case he's really got a shot here. "Do you ever stop working?"

"Not really," Louis says absently. "You should get some rest, though. You did good today. For a junior."

"Thanks, mate." He doesn't really want to leave, is the thing, he'd totally stay up to help Louis. Then again, there's only so much he can do when it comes to actually writing. His diary is hardly filled with hard-hitting journalism. There's just… something about Louis. He'd listen to him talk about police protocol changes all night if he could.

Just sitting here feels awkward, though, even for him. It's not a first date, he's not waiting to be kissed good night, and he definitely wouldn't have taken Louis to a coke lab. His mum raised him better than that. "Thanks," he says again, and gathers his equipment to leave.

He's almost at his driveway when he hears Louis call out, "Hey, Ariel."

Louis' back in the driver's seat with the window rolled down, his head poking out. "I do work all the time. It helps that I'm single."

Right.

Okay.

Maybe he could be part of that world.

*

**#2: Stay Sharp**

The chief superintendent appointment ceremony takes place two weeks after Louis and Harry's first cooperation. They've only been on three items together since, but each time they got the front page, and each time Harry got something out of it. Got better.

It's why he loves assignments with Louis; they're thrilling in a way. Not even strictly because of the field – the assignments with the military reporter are interesting too – but because of _Louis_. It's like he never rests. He's this small, gorgeous bloke who's all over the place and Harry actually has to work hard just to catch up to him.

It kind of reminded him of trying to stalk a predator stalking its prey with his old 70-300 mm lens. Only the predator was a cheeky arsehole. "Come along Harold, I know you usually wait for your zebras to pose for you but here you've got to think on your feet," Louis yelled one time, before disappearing to chat with Liam. Never mind the fact Harry was slow in the first place because of Louis' tight jeans.

But, like. _Objectively_ , Louis' pretty badass. He's got the best sources and he's not afraid to jump right in the fray, pushing forward even when he's not allowed to, until Jesy's yelling at him to fuck off because "Louis Tomlinson, the suspect is still at large, you _cannot_ interview him". Harry had no choice but to grow into it.

Anyway, the learning curve comes to a head at the ceremony assignment. It starts weird enough, as Harry _knew_ Perrie was supposed to cover it, but then last minute he got a call from Ben telling him he's up. "Shouldn't there be a senior photographer for that?" he asked, but packed up his stuff all the same.

"Louis asked for you specifically. Wouldn't wanna break up the dream team," Ben answered, causing Harry to nearly drop his camera bag.

How weird can something start, though, when it ends with a supervillain trying to set fire to the police station?

"Very fucking weird," Louis yells, rugby-tackling people who are trying to get a closer look at the nameless Management member hovering over the courtyard with some sort of flamethrower. "Why don't people run away screaming anymore? I swear to god, it's like you idiots want to burn your faces off."

Harry doesn't comment on Louis himself edging closer to the human barricade made of police officers, who are trying to fend off the flames while someone tends to the injured DCS Samuels. "They're waiting for – oh my god, he's here."

Harry drops his strawberry milkshake to the ground in a very dramatic _splat_ and raises his camera expectantly. Built like a tank in very flattering black-and-grey spandex, Harry's second favourite superhero, The Force, sweeps into the scene. Harry captures the exact moment he picks up a goddamn lamppost and swings it around to thwack the villain to the ground.

"This is the greatest moment of my life," he says, trying to infuse some enthusiasm into his otherwise morbid tone, and practically climbs over people to get a closer shot. He starts clapping with everyone as The Force squashes the flamethrower with his bare hands.

"Show-off," Louis mutters in front of him. Harry doesn't think he's showing off, just because his hands are big enough to clap with one and balance a 24-77 mm lens with the other.

"He's giving 'im a proper thrashing," Harry comments, already trying to move past the barricade like Louis would have.

Only, Louis clamps a surprisingly strong hand on his shoulder and keeps him in place. "Can you keep it in your fucking pants, he'll pose for the photo op."

That's not what it's about, and Louis knows it, but Harry doesn't have time to argue. His heart's in his throat, fingers working overtime. _This_ , this is what he's been waiting for since he started working police cases. He fucking loves superheroes.

There are, of course, the classics he grew up on, like Bond or Captain Britain, but Harry's very passionate about the new generation that cropped up a few years ago. Superheroes his own age, who could literally be anyone. And by "passionate" he means "obsessed", and by "a few years ago" he means "just when he hit puberty and discovered his own libido", and by superheroes he means "universally fit people in universally tight clothes".

Not to sexualise them, of course. They're as strong as a Bengal tiger and as dangerous as a Great White shark, but some are as elegant as panthers, and one, one is faster than a Peregrine Falcon. (He might have been spending too much time with wild animals.)

The _point_ is that they're something beyond human, and Harry can't believe he's taking pictures of one in action. Especially one of the fittest ones. How can you beat that square jaw?

The second the villain is neutralised, Harry and Louis run up for quotes and pictures. He loses track of Louis after a minute, too busy documenting the superhero checking up on the newly appointed DCS and trying not to trip or pop a semi. After the precious minutes of recuperation, it's a blur of telly cameras nearly beheading Harry, along with reporters and bystanders swarming from all angles. Harry frowns at them all fiercely, but it doesn't really work, so he looks for a tree to climb and at least he gain an overview.

Despite the press flooding the scene, Louis gets the first quote. Of course. "The brave officers are the heroes, really," The Force says, deep voice, neutral accent. Amazing. Sometimes Harry wishes they had more crime so they could have half the superheroes the US have. Harry can't hear what Louis says in response, but it's probably cheeky since The Force actually laughs. _Amazing_.

It's not two minutes before the superhero disappears. Harry's heart is still pounding, and he leans back on the bark and goes over his pictures manically. Louis finds him weirdly fast, and tries to get his attention by yelling up, "Will the wild Harrybird get out of the bloody tree?"

Harry doesn't even look up from his display screen. " _Caw caw_."

"I'm leaving without you," Louis tries again. Harry's fingers are jittery with adrenaline. He could probably walk home right now. "To the secret superhero headquarters."

Harry jerks up so suddenly it's a wonder he doesn't fall off the tree, or worse, drop his camera. He climbs down quickly and puts both of his hands on Louis' shoulders, just barely refraining from jumping up and down. "Really?"

"No, bloody hell, stop with the twinkly eyes," Louis breaks his fucking heart while cleaning his glasses attractively.

Harry frowns so deeply he's probably getting five years' worth of wrinkles. "You betrayed me."

"How the fuck would I know where the super secret headquarters are?" Louis asks, which might be reasonable, but still. Harry's definitely stomping his feet when he follows Louis back to the car.

Louis sighs when Harry slams the door shut. They drive in silence for a few minutes, until Louis breaks. "Oh cheer up already. Maybe we'll catch the Craic healing someone at hospital."

"Oh! We're going to hospital?"

"Obviously. Did you miss the part fucking Management tried to murder the head of the Great Manchester Police force? We're following up."

Isn't that fucking cool? Harry loves being part of a team. He feels like a proper journalist, chasing a lead in a Ford Focus. He's a lot cheerier when Louis starts driving, still like a lunatic. No, more like a lunatic. Louis' sulking. "What crawled up your arse?" he asks.

Louis fixes his fringe, then his glasses. "What's with the superhero thing?"

Harry blinks. "Is there a reason _not_ to have a superhero thing?"

"Hmm." Louis trails off, like he knows what he says next will determine the course of their future interactions. "I just think. The Force? Isn't that a bit heavy-handed for a dude with super-strength?"

Harry gasps. "He's not my favourite, but you _have_ to admit what he just did was impressive."

"I suppose. Who's your favourite then?"

"Winger," Harry blurts before Louis even finished the question. It's like asking what his favourite Pokémon is.

Louis looks at him through the rearview mirror, confused. "Oh?"

This is outrageous. "The fast one with the banging legs who never gets his picture taken? The little guy?"

"He's not _little_ ," Louis protests, suddenly annoyed, slotting into a parking space choppily. "Just because he hangs out with giants like The Force and The Quiff all day."

Harry bursts out laughing. "The _wha_ – "

" _You know who I mean_ ," Louis snaps. What the fuck could he have against the Grim Reaper? He's tall and openly gay and chattier than any superhero Harry's ever read about, Louis should be all over that. Come to think about it, Harry's met him once, before his last trip to Africa. It was outside of a club off Bridge Street and _the superhero_ actually _hit on him_ but Harry wasn't into it so he turned him down and he's still haunted by it sometimes.

He's haunted by Winger's arse all the time, though. "Jesus. So you're saying he's got a size complex?"

Louis sputters. "Well, I only interviewed him once, but I can tell you he didn't strike me as a very complex person." That's impressive on its own, albeit completely _wrong_. But Winger was never one of the Heroic ones, like The Force or Mixers. He went in, did his thing, and left just as fast, not interested in praise. If that doesn't scream complex, Harry doesn't know what does.

Louis isn’t done. "You probably only like him because he's got a penguin-related name."

"Wingers are the fastest players in a rugby team, you idiot." He rolls his eyes. "And what are you talking about, a superhero without a complex? That's the best part about them." Before Louis even opens his mouth to argue Harry adds, "Not being insensitive. It's like… the best part about me is my penguin obsession."

"Oh please, you've got a lot going for you." Which. Isn't what Harry expected him to say at all.

"I guess I am taller than certain superheroes."

Louis gets out of the car without a second glance. Harry can't even follow him, he's laughing so hard.

*

**#3: Prepare For Surprises**

"Yo H, wanna spend the night with me?" Is not an acceptable way to start a phone call.

"Yes," he answers immediately.

Louis laughs. "Be more eager?"

Harry frowns. "You're such a twat, what are you even talking about?"

"I just got offered by the GMP spokesperson to join a road policing officer's night shift. I think you can hear how thrilled I was by that." Not thrilled at all. Harry's gotten quite good at reading humans. Well, Louis. It's been three months, after all. They're basically joined at the hip. " _But_ , the number of traffic violations has dropped significantly since January, so it could be good fluff for a news story about the statistics. Plus I made sure our officer was Niall Horan."

 _Our._ "I take it you've already signed me up?"

"Oh come on, it'll be much more fun with you. I can _hear_ you grinning."

Guilty as charged. Oh, that's funny, considering their joint field. He giggles to himself. "D'you clear it with Ben?"

"He loves me, it's cool."

"No, he loves _me_ ," Harry corrects. "He tolerates you."

"Okay, but you love me, so," Louis says in a heartbeat. "Transitive relation. Ship."

"We have a transitive relationship with Ben Winston?"

"You _wish_. He is married, you homewrecker."

Harry sighs his usual Ben-related sigh. His mysterious wife, honestly. Harry could totally be Ben Winston's wife. He'd just have to convert to Judaism and surgically remove his crush on Louis, and he's golden. "You're rude."

"Whatever. Pick you up at eight?"

Harry sighs again. He still hasn't adopted a cat. Or found friends outside of work. Or a shagging partner. Louis knows all that, of course. He knew even before calling that Harry was going to say yes.

Which brings him to 20:05, spreading out in the back of a police cruiser with the one person who drives less safely than Louis. Naturally, it's a traffic cop.

"Hazza, have you heard Beyoncé’s new album?" is the first thing Officer Horan says to him. Which is a bit personal.

He's staring at Louis' headrest suspiciously. "Um, no."

"Well, you're gonna," Louis warns.

Sounds auspicious enough. Until the officer yells, "I sneezed on the beat and the beat got sicker," and Louis starts clapping and singing, "Yoncé all on his mouth like liquor" twenty times.

Harry's staring furiously out the window. The constant reminder that they're going far too fast is more calming than whatever it is Louis thinks he's doing with his voice. "Is the whole album sex songs?" he asks quietly.

"Nah mate, there are some about feminism. Bey's a fierce fuckin' woman."

"Aw, listen to him, like he's not just repeating Liam," Louis says, ruffling Horan's hair. "Who's been blasting the HQ with this fucking album all week."

"Well, after I kissed Wiz Khalifa, I think I've got some cred. And I liked Beyoncé better than Kanye's. Never trust a Kardashian, eh Harry?"

Harry blinks. Louis, surprisingly, comes to the rescue. "Can you at least attempt a normal introduction? He literally just got in your car and you called him by a nickname and played music."

"Fuck you, Lou, you participated in the music. And with your arse, you should start taking lessons from her. Maybe boys will want your liquor too." Louis makes some sort of indignant squeal, and Harry's never enjoyed a car ride more. Especially when Horan fixes him with a stare through the rearview mirror and says, "Have you seen him in tights, _Hazza?_ It's the sweetest in the middle."

Harry _blinks_. Plays with his camera straps. Doesn't think about Louis in tights. Or in relation to a sex song. Or giving anyone a lap dance. Not anyone in this car, definitely. Louis spares him from having to answer. "Oh my god, Ni, please stop pimping me out."

" _What_ , I'm just being friendly. I'm Niall, by the way," he adds, grinning at Harry. "I'll try to be more appropriate when we reach my beat."

Harry tips an imaginary hat to him. Who wouldn't like an inappropriate Irishman in a uniform? "Niall, would this car happen to have a _partition?_ "

Niall wipes a fake tear while overtaking a real car. "They grow so fast. Please don't get on your knees, though, there's so much rubbish in this car, I swear."

Louis clears his throat loudly. "So that's the quote you're giving me tonight, then?"

"Nope. Tonight, dear Harry-and-Louis, we're going to arrest drunk drivers, chase speeders, and if we're lucky, save someone from a burning car. Make that your headline, please: _Why Traffic Policing Is Hardcore_."

So it's not as hardcore as someone trying to burn down the GMP headquarters, but Niall's fucking hilarious, and Harry ends up neglecting his camera in favour of joining Louis' antics. Which is making up his own sobriety tests.

"Now the alphabet, but do it in Cookie Monster's voice," Louis tells the young driver crouching in front of his beat-up car, after having finished his sit-ups.

"You're not a proper copper, you fuckin' cunt," he finally says, staring at Louis' casual clothes with glazed eyes.

"Oi, I am, it's totally legit," Niall pipes up, also crouching in front of his car after Louis' made him laugh so hard that Harry was sure he would split a seam.

"This seems kind of mean?" Harry whispers, sidling up to Niall.

Niall turns oddly serious eyes to him. "Tell that to the eight-year-old girl and her nan that he would've run over if he'd been driving right now."

Harry widens his eyes. And then gives Niall his camera and steps up to Louis and the pisshead. He's just reached "C is for Cookie". Harry claps for his attention, and even Louis quiets down in anticipation. "Repeat after me," Harry starts.

Waits for the guy's eyes to focus on him.

And then throws up his hands and does the yoga tree pose. He actually manages to hold it and stare menacingly until the guy tries to bend his knee the right way. He stumbles after two seconds, which isn't as hilarious as it could've been, but Louis' looking at Harry with this respect in his eyes, so Harry's not bothered.

Niall finally throws the offender in the backseat and clambers into the car himself. During the short trip to the station, Louis asks twenty seven times to turn on the flasher. He's denied twenty six of them.

Back on the road, the hour's late enough that the roads are mostly empty, so Niall can't really entertain them by driving recklessly.

"Shouldn't you pretend to interview him, at least?" Harry asks at some point.

Louis whips his head around to glare at him. "Do I tell _you_ how to do your job?"

"Um. Yeah. Like, all the time."

Niall snorts. Louis cuffs him upside the head. "He's learning, see?" he whispers. "Alright Nialler. Tell me about your average day."

It takes him ten minutes to go from "I wake up" to "and let me fuckin' tell you, you haven't _lived_ until you got a lap dance from a Victoria's Secret model."

"What the fuck." Harry has more questions, or comments, but honestly the only thing coming out of his mouth is, "what the _fuck_."

"He's omitted the fact she was his girlfriend," Louis adds smartly. "He doesn't actually have supermodels throwing themselves at him."

"I'd throw myself at you, Nialler," Harry says immediately.

"A true mate! Ace, Hazza."

Harry takes a picture of Niall in reply. He snaps a discreet one of Louis, too. (There's a folder on his laptop. You go through 2013, Special, Nature, Emperors, BEST, and there it is, New Folder, full of pictures of Louis. Concentrating on the job, jotting down notes with a pen cap between his sharp teeth, blue eyes wide behind his sexy teacher glasses when taking in the scene, cigarette between his pouty lips when they chill out after an assignment. There's a subfolder reserved for his crinkly-eyed smile. Harry should probably get rid of them all.)

"Do you think what you do is more dangerous than what detectives do?" Louis asks, curious.

Niall mulls it over. "Well, I don't think driving around at all hours and chasing fucking idiots who shouldn't have gotten a license in the first place is healthier than shooting at murder suspects. But. I think it takes a different skill set. Both in catching the violators and in preventing the violations."

"What's your favourite part of the job?" Louis follows up quickly.

"Obviously helping people injured in car crashes. But I guess… going to schools is cool too. Straightening out young drivers. Is that nice-sounding?"

"Very nice," Louis says, thumping Niall's shoulder. "How come I've never interviewed you before? You sound like a pro."

Harry frowns. "Wait, how do you two know each other?"

"Friend of a friend," they both say at the same time. Harry isn't convinced, but before he can press the issue, a shrill beeping echos through the car.

"Jesus Christ, that's what police radios sound like?" he asks instead.

"No," Niall answers, swerving the car dangerously so he could pull over. He rifles through the glove compartment and draws out a still shrilling beeper. "Oh. Lads, we'll have to cut this short."

Harry leans forward, but before he could wonder what message Niall got, Louis says, "Do you need me?", in a tone more serious than Harry has ever heard him use.

Niall hums for a second. "No, should be alright. But I need to leave five minutes ago."

"Right, of course. Take us to Harry's place, it's closer."

It's very unlike Louis to just give up on a potential item, one that sounds more interesting than the "day in the life" thing they have been sent out to do. And then what he said dawns on Harry. "Actually, your place might be, um, closer."

"It's not," Louis says definitively, and Niall just starts driving before Harry can get another word in.

That's not good. That's not good at all. It's the middle of the night, Louis would have no way to get home other than springing for a cab, and even in this sudden state of panic Harry knows he wouldn't allow Louis to do that. The panic doesn't subside. There's a reason he never invites people over. Other than barely knowing anyone in Manchester. Harry spends almost all of his considerable earnings on photography equipment. Shit, he's converted his bedroom into a mini-studio and sleeps in the living room. 

He doesn't even have time to propose anything else. Somehow Niall completes a twenty minute drive in five, propelled by Beyoncé and whatever the hell his beeper said.

"It's been good meeting you, Haz, you're just as great as Tommo said," Niall tells him, which doesn't make him giddy at all.

He tears off into the distance just barely after Harry gets all his equipment out of the car. It's eerily silent without Niall's constant chatter and Beyoncé’s album, just him, Louis and a few drunk uni kids in the middle of the street. "How weird was that?" he asks, looking over at Louis and sort of. Pausing. Because Louis looks actually worried, in a way he hasn't looked even while facing a fire. Every bone in Harry's body is screaming at him to _make it better_.

He wraps a sure arm around Louis' shoulders and leads him into the complex. "C'mon then, you can ask _me_ the questions you missed out."

Louis snorts. He still looks distraught, but it's something. "Well Officer Styles, how do you keep up with all the changes in the force?"

"I eat lots of bananas, of course. Also…" He leans in to whisper into Louis' ear, "I'm actually a superhero."

That gets a proper laugh out of Louis. He can't even be offended in front of Louis' crinkly eyes. "Are you now? What's your superpower?"

He doesn't even need to think before picking Louis up and carrying him bridal style into his flat, kicking and screaming. "I'm super strong, of course. You might say... I'm _Forceful._ "

His punchline is sort of drowned out by, "Oh my fucking god I swear to Christ you will put me down right now."

So Harry kisses his hair, and he shuts right up. It was sort of knee-jerk, only not really, with Louis' shaggy hair this close to his face and the fact he's actually got him in his arms. The way Louis burrows into his chest, toned legs swinging over Harry's elbow. He's a magical creature, there's no other explanation to how well he fits against Harry's chest.

The only place to dump him on is the bed, which is in the living room, which relates to the original issue with this. One bed, tiny kitchen, huge studio. That's his flat. There's probably not enough space to share. "Home sweet home," he says, feeling Louis nod against his collarbone.

"It's rather cozy."

Shithead. "Tell that to my lenses."

"You freak. Where do you keep the cat, then?" Louis asks, wriggling in his arms to look around.

"Haven't got one."

"But I thought that was why you came back?"

"Well, like, I'll probably be off to Galapagos in two months. Not really a good time to raise a cat."

" _What?_ " Louis releases himself surprisingly gracefully from Harry's hold, landing on his feet. If any of the previous moroseness has been replaced, it's back now.

Harry shrugs apologetically. "Well, like. I've only been loaned to Ben for six months. I wanna go back out there, chase the magic."

"But." Louis shakes his head. "But you're part of 1D. You can't just go solo."

" _Lewis_ , are you gonna miss me?" A grin is tugging at his lips, growing the more annoyed Louis looks. "Gaze outside your bedroom window wondering which country I'm in?" He starts poking Louis' ribs, crowding him. "Get a subscription to Nat Geo just so you can cut out my name and paste it in a scrapbook?"

" _No,_ you idiot – "

"Cry every time you see penguins?" He shoves his cold hands under Louis' shirt, making him squirm and yell.

"Stop it, you fucking despicable prat – "

" _You're gonna miss me by my hair, you're gonna miss me everywhere, oh you're sure gonna miss me_ – " He's cut off by Louis' hand clamped on his mouth, and a glare from the very depths of hell. So he tackles Louis back onto the bed. Only, sure enough, Louis' hand was fisted in his shirt, so they both end up tumbling over.

Once the head rush subsides Harry assesses the situation. Louis' knee is tucked up painfully against Harry's ribcage, and his fist is squeezed between their chests, but other than that, he's lying on top of Louis in his bed. So. There's an upside.

He's probably crushing him, but Louis' looking up without a hint of discomfort on his face, blue eyes wide and mouth slack. His hair's all over the place. He's just lovely, always, but particularly now. It's quiet, playfulness forgotten. Harry should probably breathe at some point.

"I will, you know," Louis says quietly.

Harry blinks down at him. Neither of them has made a move to change their position. "What?"

Louis rolls his eyes and flicks Harry's forehead. "Miss you, you idiot, when you chase your magic. I thought we clicked. But I guess I'm no Gentoo."

A wave of affection washes over Harry, and before he can think about it, he leans down to nuzzle Louis' stubble, settling in the crook of his neck. "You're better. You're a Genlou. A rare breed."

"I can't actually hear what you said, but I'll assume it was dumb."

So Harry bites Louis' shoulder vindictively, and Louis kicks out, actually managing to topple Harry over and beside him. _Ow_. "Ow. You hurt my boob."

"You _are_ a tit," Louis complains, like he hasn't just injured Harry gravely. His voice is suspiciously breathy, though. When Harry looks over Louis' chest is heaving. He wants to take a picture of it.

He flips over on his stomach and leans on his elbows, looming over Louis' face. "I _said_ , we do click." He clicks his fingers in demonstration. Louis flinches, but doesn't stop staring into Harry's eyes.

Except for when his eyes flit down to look at Harry's lips. He licks them slowly, watching for a reaction. Louis actually gulps. He's being awfully unsubtle. Both of them are. But Harry's always been blunt. "Do I ask to kiss you or do I just let it happen?"

Louis blinks, and then lifts up to kiss Harry's cheek sweetly. "Let's not complicate this," he whispers.

The tension is cut. Alright then.

Harry sighs and crumples, digging his face into the mattress. Louis cackles and smacks his bum before getting up. "So the bed in the middle of the flat. Is it a douchey thing?"

"Yeah, 'cause I'm such a slag," Harry says, rolling his eyes even though Louis can't see his face. "I had to make the bedroom into something else, and – you know. It was practical, shut up."

"Okay, no need to get defensive." He says it harshly, but then he rounds the bed to run a comforting hand over Harry's back, which is doing nothing to dispel the sexual frustration he's feeling _acutely_. "I'll sleep with you, then?"

Harry looks at him over his shoulder and, yeah, Louis' smirking. "No mate, I've got an air mattress, I'll take the floor."

Louis cracks, like he didn't actually expect Harry to be nice about it. He smiles at him fondly. "Don't be an idiot. If you don't mind I don't mind. And if you do mind, _I_ 'll take the floor, obviously."

"Oh, it's not a chivalry thing. It's that you're so old, you'll probably break your back."

"And you've got such a sweet face on you, too." He tugs on the curls peeking under Harry's headscarf and saunters off to Harry's bathroom.

Alone and calmer, it hits Harry that it's four AM and he's got an assignment at the uni in five hours. He drags himself out of the bed and starts taking care of his equipment – transferring the pictures from tonight to Louis' flash drive and putting it all back in order in his bag. He looks around when he's done. Louis' still nowhere to be found, so Harry pulls out sweatpants and, after a thought, grabs another pair for Louis.

"Lou, I've got clothes for you," he calls out, while sitting down to begin the process of peeling off his jeans. Louis pokes his head from the bathroom, toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and for the first time since Harry's met him he's not wearing his glasses. Christ, his eyes are just unnaturally pretty. They widen when he catches sight of Harry squirming on the bed. And then he sort of doesn't stop staring.  So Harry takes his time, dragging the tight jeans past his hips and off each long leg. It's pretty ridiculous for a striptease, as Harry's the most awkward kit-remover in history, but Louis' blinking profusely even after Harry's done.

Right. Not complicate things. "Is that my toothbrush?" he asks suddenly, crossing his legs.

Louis frowns, and ducks back into the bathroom to spit into the sink. "Of course not, that's disgusting."

"So you just carry a toothbrush around?"

"And fresh overnight clothes, too. Never know where I'm gonna spend the night," Louis says, like this is a teachable moment and not an attempt to tease Harry. When he finally steps back into the living room he's wearing comfortable joggers and a ratty white T-shirt with holes in it. Harry wants to wreck him. Tenderly.

He clears his throat and puts on his own sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. It's going to be hot between the two of them and his comforter. Not, like, hot, but. He clears his throat again and shuffles up under the covers. Louis closes all the lights before he joins him, slipping smoothly into the bed and not touching him. There's a definite chasm between them. Harry remembers his trip to Israel, taking pictures of the Dead Sea, the lowest part of the Great Rift Valley. He is the Nubian Plate, Louis is the Somali Plate. (And let no one say he learned nothing.)

The silence stretches between them, until Louis clears his throat and mumbles, "Sorry. About before."

Harry frowns deeply. "Don't apologise for rejecting someone. That's their problem, not yours."

"No, but, like. I'm not rejecting you. There are just… parts of me that. I'm not sure you'd like. And giving you only the parts you already do will be, like, faking it. And I don't wanna fake it with you. I like you too much; I couldn't."

Harry's not sure he gets it – in fact, he's sure he doesn't, but he knows Louis won't explain himself better. So he nods and says, "Mate, it's totally cool, you don't have to fake anything. You shouldn't pretend with me, we're a team."

"I pretend with everyone."

Harry just doesn't know what to say to that, so he shifts his hand until he finds Louis' and squeezes it. Louis lets out a deep sigh and takes Harry's hand, fitting it over his _racing_ heart. "Can't fake that."

Harry doesn't know what to say to that either. He tangles their fingers together and buries his face in his pillow. This is definitely going to be harder than he'd thought. "Sure you don't want me to sleep somewhere else?"

Louis tightens his grip. "Yes. Let's just. Goodnight."

Harry hums. Something possesses him to lift their intertwined hands to his lips and kiss Louis' knuckles. It must have been the right move, because Louis makes a pleased noise and shifts closer to him, curling up more comfortably.

He is so lovely Harry's chest aches with it, sometimes. It took him two days to fall in love with a penguin colony. Maybe three months are enough to fall for a human.

*

**#4: Seriously, BE PREPARED**

Harry hasn't been in a life or death situation before. Or maybe his judgement's skewed, since for him crossing the street is life or death, and hanging off trees regularly to be at eye level with napping tigers is his favourite pastime. That's probably the reason he doesn't even blink when Louis tells him there's a bank robbery in progress. He just grabs his gear and goes.

He finds Louis outside the bank, so congruent with the police officers no one even thinks to kick him out. Harry tries to make himself small, and taps Louis' shoulder gently. Louis looks thrown off, in a way he hardly ever does, but for Harry he's usually got a smile ready. He takes Harry's arm and leads him away from the officers and closer to the other journos.

"What's going on?" Harry asks, pulling out his camera already.

"I have no idea," Louis admits. "They won't tell me this time. I'm waiting for Liam."

"Alright. What can I do?" He's keeping his voice calm – well, his voice is always calm. Sometimes he thinks that's why Louis keeps him around. He's a very good rock.

"Hm. Wait with me." It sounds like a question for once, so Harry nods and just hangs around Louis, looking at the opaque doors of the bank. He can actually feel the nervous energy coming off Louis in waves, how he's aching to run off and _do something_. They're lucky Liam shows up before Louis breaks down the bank door himself.

"Payno!" Louis calls out, bounding over to Liam and dragging Harry along with him. "How's it going?"

Liam looks around, seeming even more worried than Louis. "You know, taking it one day at a time. I haven't slept in three weeks, the job is just so demanding. My arm is killing me since we played rugby."

He sounds really off, and then he moves to join his boss. Louis nods to himself and then presses against Harry's side and whispers, "One armed robber, three hostages, they've already received the demands."

Harry blinks at him. Louis Tomlinson is a magical creature and nothing could convince him otherwise. "Oh my god."

Louis' expression hardens all of a sudden, and he straightens up. He's still shorter than Harry, but somehow seems twice as big. "I don't want you here. Go around the block, find some interesting shocked people and take pictures and quotes from them."

It sounds like Louis' trying to distract him, but as always, Harry does what he's told. It's not like he can negotiate – in a blink of an eye Louis' already gone, crowding Liam off to the side.

So Harry shuffles off, finds the man who "thought this was a quiet neighbourhood", the woman who "just left the bank seconds before the robber came in", the girl who is "sure she's already seen that guy on the news". When he knows he's got enough, he starts the trip back to the gaggle of press.

Harry's a lucky guy. He's had amazing opportunities come his way, he's well-known and well paid, he's met amazing people in his life and always had people who supported him. He thinks he's lucky now, as he's aiming the camera at the entrance just as the robber comes out and he gets a clean, perfect picture. The guy, wearing a balaclava, is waving his gun around and keeping a bank teller in a chokehold. Harry can't believe he's actually in the front line for this.

It happens the second he looks away. His finger is still squeezing the shutter about a million frames per second, and he looks to the side just for a moment to check if Louis' seeing this.

And then he gets shot.

Surprisingly, it only gets weirder. The pain in his leg is absolutely mind-numbing, and he's so shocked it's like his brain is shutting down, stuttering over _what the actual fuck_ and _holy motherfucking shit this hurts_ and _I have pictures of my own murder_.

He's blinking away sweat and tears, maybe, has no idea, but the point is that his eyes are still open and he must be hallucinating due to _getting fucking shot_ because he sees Liam bloody Payne hurling himself at the robber and knocking him out, unarmed and unshielded. It occurs to him that he might be the only one seeing this, as every single press member ran off as soon as shots were fired at them.

Weirder still, Louis appears out of fucking nowhere and wraps Harry's own headband around his bullet wound. _Bullet wound._ He's going to pass out in five seconds, that's just what's going to happen. And he notices, he notices for the first time that Louis' legs are moving unnaturally quick when he runs to get a medic. And he _knows_ he's the only one who sees that, because he's the only one who's attuned himself so much to every move Louis makes. He doesn't _disappear_. He _runs very fast_.

True to his word, Harry passes out.

When he wakes up he can't feel a thing. The only possible conclusion is that he's dead.

He isn't sure whether Louis holding his shoulders down supports or refutes that theory. There's a humming in his ears, blocking out everything else, but he thinks he can see Louis yelling at someone. So that happens in the afterlife too. Pretty, assertive Louis. Looking… less than angelic, actually. Like, bruised and blotchy, like he'd been. Crying.

Okay, he might be alive. The next possible conclusion is that he's paralysed, which would fucking suck, so he tries to come up with the next one. Which is that he got shot but some heavenly force made him alright again.

He arches his neck a bit, looking down at his legs, since apparently he's lying down. Niall's there, for some reason, crouching over him and touching his wound, which is fucking gross. Only. His wound's been reduced to barely a bruise, under the gaping bloody bullet-shaped hole in his jeans. Shit, he loved these jeans. Definitely top three. Of his three jeans.

It occurs to him that he feels high as fuck. The more confused he gets, the more his hearing clears, and he can finally catch the argument taking place around him. "What the fuck was I supposed to do, just leave him there?" Louis yells, more annoyed than Harry's ever heard him.

"No, you should have taken a _second_ to suit up at least," someone replies.

"Oh, like you did before you ran the guy into the ground with no back up?"

" _Shots were fired_."

"I fucking noticed, Liam, as they were shot _at Harry_."

"He was shot in the leg, he could have waited five minutes to go to a real hospital instead of the _secret HQ_."

Harry looks up to see pure fury in Louis' eyes. He's starting to get some feeling back, at least enough to know Louis' clutching his shoulders like a vice. "He was in pain. You know who takes care of that? This motherfucker." He points forward, maybe at where Niall's standing.

"Will all of you shut the fuck up?" Niall says. Harry can't see him but he recognises the accent, at least. "Liam, I know it scared you to expose yourself like that, but no one's connected the dots and you saved lives and you don't need to take it out on Louis just because he had a lapse in judgement of his own. And Tommo, you did what you thought was right, but at least acknowledge why you made everyone worried."

"I – "

"No, acknowledge in your head and shut the fuck up. I'm almost done, just go fight somewhere else."

"I'm not moving an inch from him," Louis insists.

"Aw," Harry blurts, accidentally bringing everyone's attention to the fact that he's awake. Louis' head snaps down and he looks straight into Harry's eyes, expression made of worry, anger, pain and relief.

"Love? Are you in pain?"

How is that the first question, honestly. Not _what do you remember_ or _so how about all of us apparently being the superheroes you've idolised all these years_ or _why did you let yourself get shot_. "I love you," he says. It's literally the first thing that's popped in his head. He feels like he could float off this table if Louis weren't holding him.

Louis' eyes widen. "Oh god, Niall, didn't you fix him already?"

"I did my thing, mate," Niall mutters, stifling a laugh. "You know it gets some people loopy for a while, though."

Liam Payne curses and bounds over to Harry's side. There are cuts and bruises on his face too, but still his chiselled features show strength and – Christ, _how_ didn't Harry see it before? He's played FIFA with The fucking Force.

"You're hurt," he says, raising a finger in Liam's general direction. "D'you get the guy?"

Any conviction or intimidation Liam was trying to convey crumbles in a second, and he smiles down at Harry, warm and sweet. How is this guy the strongest superhero in England? He's barely more than a friendly neighbour sometimes. "Your boy punched me, actually."

"My – " He looks back up Louis, who's looking anywhere but at him. There's a bruise on his jaw. "You punched each other?"

"He wanted to carry you all the way over here by himself. I had to. Make him see why that was dangerous."

"Twat," Louis mutters.

"Stop it," another voice says, one Harry can't place right now.

Liam's eyes widen. "Stay quiet, he doesn't know – "

Zayn fucking Malik draws up next to Liam. "What's he gonna do? Rat us out?"

" _For example_."

"Oh come on, look at him, he wouldn't hurt a fly," Zayn says.

Harry nods twenty times. He loves Zayn. They never hung out properly outside of work, but Zayn is a dedicated sort of guy, who makes sure to have all the photographers at his office and explain the things Ben can’t – which shots he's expecting from each types of event, what to do if a reporter is being a tit, and to always call him if they have any trouble. Obviously with Harry the conversations stray to tattoos and art and how amazing Zayn is. He cannot believe Zayn is a superhero. "I love you," he tells him.

Louis sputters. "You're just saying it to everyone, then?"

"We're the bestest, I love _you_ the most," Harry assures him. "Liam, can I touch your abs?"

"Alright, clear the room, I'm putting him down," Niall declares, getting up and coming closer to Harry's head.

"But shouldn't I stay?" Louis asks, pouting. Harry really wants to kiss him, why hasn't he kissed him yet?

Oh, god. _I pretend with everyone._ "Louis Tomlinson, the only person I ever had a crush on longer than you is _you_. Take me now."

"Oh my god," all four of them say, and Louis finally lets go of his shoulders. He looks at Niall menacingly, and ignores Harry's whining as he's removed from view. After a second of staring up at the ceiling, though, Louis reappears in a flash – a _flash_ , because he is a superhero, because he is super fast, because _he is Harry's favourite superhero and he actually thought that would be a turn-off what a load of bullshit_ – and presses a soft kiss to Harry's forehead. Harry whimpers. Niall throws a chair at Louis.

Harry passes out again, hoping against hope that he'll remember all of this.

(He wakes up at his flat, with Louis making tea in the kitchen. He remembers all the superhero stuff, and doesn't lie about it. He also remembers all the shit he's said while Niall – The Craic, how amazing – was healing him, and definitely lies about it.

Louis tells him only what he has to – that he, Niall and Liam occasionally put on tights and save England, that Zayn doesn't actually have powers but is in the know and helps when he can, that he and Liam are partners that occasionally punch each other, that no one but Harry was hurt in the robbery except for the robber The Force mauled, who "won't be leaving custody as long as I'm protecting this damn city".

Then Louis tells him more. How scared he was when Harry got hurt, how he's the first person he wanted to tell. How Zayn picked Liam's superhero name as a joke about him being a cop and then accidentally ran it in a story and it stuck, how hard it is to lead a double life sometimes, how he hasn't slept in ten years.

Louis doesn't say anything about certain declarations Harry's let out.

And then Louis leaves.)

*

**#5: Don't Be Intimidated By Your Superhero Future Boyfriend**

The first time Harry joins a superhero mission he isn't exactly invited. Which is to say he's just coming in from an assignment with non-Louis and he overhears Ben talking about "some rubbish going on in Canal Street". He grabs his shit and runs out.

Louis' been sort of avoiding him since he got shot. Which is horribly rude, phrased like that, but maybe it's just _horribly rude_. Harry did nothing, told no one. He's even kept his distance from the police station, as much as he can when 1Daily is five minutes away from it. But it's been a week and Louis hasn't called him, not to go on an assignment or just to chill out. When he wandered into Zayn's office and asked if there was any Reporter on an Interesting Assignment, Zayn smiled at him apologetically and said Louis' taken some time off from the paper. Harry didn't pout, but Zayn must have caught on to his dismay because he added gently and very quietly, "Listen, as someone who's dating a _special someone_ , I can tell you that it takes time to get them to trust you. They've literally got the weight of the world on their shoulders, so to ask them to do something as selfish as be in a happy relationship… they need to get over some stuff."

"A complex," Harry put in, vindicated. ~~~~

Harry totally got what Zayn said, but there was no way for him to just accept it without Louis even showing his face. So he goes to follow up on the "rubbish", and can tell from miles away that it's superhero-related. The cars smashing midair, for example, are a clue. This is why Harry doesn't own a car.

It's so, so odd to see The Force in full costume and think of him as Liam. _I know you're trying to grow a beard and have an obsession with Shakira._ What an amazing thing to think about a super-strong superhero. Harry's truly blessed.

He gets as close as he dares (for some reason getting shot made him kind of apprehensive, even though Niall left him without a scratch) and climbs a tall tree. From this vantage point he sees that it's not just Liam on the scene. His fingers are shaking on his camera when he catches sight of Louis in his Winger costume. Bright, beautiful blue that Harry now knows matches his eyes, streamlined in white. It makes him think of a Superb Fairywren, or a Blue Jay. Which is to say he's trying very hard not to think about _Louis' perfect body in spandex_. Christ.

Another self-distraction tactic would be to do what he was (kind of) sent to do and take pictures of the fight. He doesn't even pretend to try to catch Liam or the villain, though. After working together for so long, Harry's learned to train his eyes on Louis like a hawk. It's not as hard as he thought it would be, even with Louis being super fast. He tries to get close-ups of his strong legs, his quick arms, his abs working to tear someone apart. Thank god he spent all his money on this long-focus lens. This is so worth not having a bedroom.

Only when the fight's over and Louis and Liam disappear from view does Harry dare look at his display screen. He half-expects all his shots of Louis to be nothing more than a blur, but no, they're perfect. Just smudged enough to show the powerful movement of Louis' body. Harry's right chuffed.

Louis less so.

"Why are you in a tree again?" Louis yells from the pavement. After tracking him for so long it's weird to hear his voice, especially after being avoided for a week.

Harry looks down, about to answer, but then he just can't make out words. Louis' back in his civvies, glasses and jeans and a T-shirt with a scoop neckline, and it's like. Harry's brain rearranges all its information regarding Louis. Because the super fast guy who just toyed with the villain that can crush cars is also Tommo, who loves football and has a joke for all occasions and a weird obsession with pizza. And Tommo, Harry's best mate, is also spending the hours he doesn't spend with Harry risking his life and fighting supervillains. That's just. Weird as fuck. And gets Harry inappropriately hot. (Though that was probably the breathless fifteen minutes he's just spent spying on spandex-wearing Louis throwing some big guy around.)

Louis' still staring up at him, and Harry still can't say anything, so Louis grabs the tree trunk and starts climbing. He's stumbling for a bit, until he chuckles, probably remembering that Harry _knows_ , and then he's perching in front of Harry in less than a second. And yelling. "What the _fuck_ were you thinking, do you realise how dangerous Management is?"

"That was stunning," Harry finally blurts.

Louis opens and closes his mouth a couple of times. He looks confused, but also fucking _amazing_ , flushed with exertion and power and a job well done. "What?"

"You, you were amazing. Just look at the pictures," he barks, and thrusts the camera into Louis' lap.

Louis doesn't pick it up. "You actually took pictures?"

"Of course, what'd you think I was doing?"

Louis sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, which is a crime and Liam should arrest him or kick his arse. "Well. Freaking out?"

"Why would I – Louis, I've been around wild animals half my life, superheroes don't intimidate me." That should be, like, the least of Louis' concerns. Actually, he shouldn't have any concerns. Harry frowns very seriously at any concern that might be keeping Louis from fucking his brains out.

"Well show me the bloody pictures then. No one's ever quick enough to get them."

Harry opens up the live preview and lets Louis look through the gallery, sort of nervous but too excited to let it sink in. He expects more praise for his steady hand and quick eye, but Louis ends up just gulping and saying, "Harry. Why are there softcore porn pictures of me?"

He snorts a laugh. "What?"

"Look how you..." Louis' actually flustered, how amazing. "Focused. What were you trying to show?"

Harry has no idea what he's talking about. "I wasn't trying to do anything, that's just how I see you."

Louis looks up at him. Then down at the camera. Back up at him. And then he shoves Harry back against the tree trunk and kisses the living daylights out of him. Maybe it's because he's been waiting for five months, or because the whole lead-up was more epic than his normal "I'm horny kiss me random club-goers", but this is a very good kiss. Louis' pouty lips are soft against his, a contrast to how he's grabbed Harry's chin to tilt his head this way or that, to how his stubble scratches Harry's skin. He opens up immediately, sort of desperate, and melts into it when Louis' tongue brushes over his.

It could be hours later that Louis stops kissing him, and even then he stays close and nips at his lips like a sexy maniac. "Are you kidding," Harry asks breathlessly. "I have so many pictures of you sleeping and showering, I could have shown you ages ago."

"Shut up, you sycophant," Louis says, and then leans in to kiss him again.

It's been a pretty weird six months. He made a new best friend, fallen in love with him, took part in a real life car chase, got shot in the leg, got _shot_ in the _leg_ , found out said friend was the superhero Harry's had a crush on for years, and slipped on a banana peel, like, three times. This is the best moment, though, without a doubt. Making out with his superhero future boyfriend.

Actually _sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G_.

And of course he has to sing it out loud, and Louis smacks him and demands they remove themselves from the tree, and then "No, Harold, I won't carry you to my flat and devour you, you only get a free pass when you get shot" and "I'm not saying I _can't_ " and "I'll show _you_ being fast in the sack", and honestly, Harry will make premature ejaculation jokes every day if it means getting taken apart for hours and coming twice before finally getting fucked by his superhot superhero superboyfriend.

*

**\+ Be Involved**

"I'm just saying I've got a lot to offer."

Louis rolls his eyes at him, taking his gloves off with his teeth. "Do you?"

"What?" Harry asks, blinking at Louis' pretty hands. _No, not now_. He shakes his head. "Yes, I can contribute to the group without having superpowers."

"Right." He takes off his mask and shakes out his hair, trying and failing to hide a _patronising_ smile. They've talked about this ten times already, but Harry still can't get Louis to take him seriously. He thought he'd try now, minutes after Louis' defeated a villain and came home to get ready to go to 1Daily with Harry.

It's been a month since the incredibly rare pictures of Winger made him a senior photographer. He asked Ben and Morgan for six more months in 1Daily, since having an in with a superhero gang seemed mildly more interesting than rejoining wildlife. Only his _in_ seemed to consist just of being in Louis. Which is brilliant, of course, but. "Zayn has a thing. He does all your costumes and stuff. Why can't I have a thing?"

Louis sighs and unzips his costume as far as his hips, so his torso is bared. Harry knows for a fact this is a distraction tactic; he _never_ gets stripteases, as Louis uses his superpower to undress both of them in the blink of an eye. He pouts. Louis might be pouting back, Harry wouldn't know – his eyes are glued to his pecs. "Well, what _thing_ would you want?"

Okay, he has given it some thought. "Since I'm your in-house photographer, I think my thing should probably involve photography. Like, you know I've got quite a following on Instagram. I could make you guys the most popular superheroes on the Internet." At Louis' eyebrow arching, Harry adds quickly, " _Or_ a sexy calendar."

A bark of laughter is hardly the answer Harry wanted to hear. Louis silences himself quickly, and steps out of his uniform so he's just in his briefs. He then pushes Harry back until he's sitting on the bed, with Louis in his lap. Harry realises after a second that it's not a sex move, he's just trying to get close to Harry because he wants to say something important. "Listen. You know I love you, yeah?"

He knows he's supposed to be standing his ground here, but he can't help the dumb smile that spreads on his face. "Yeah."

"And I think you're very talented and could make us the most badass Instagram page ever."

"Thank you."

"And you could make a brilliant superhero. But," Louis snaps, sliding his hands up Harry's shoulders to cradle his head, fingers twisting in his hair the way Harry likes. "You're not, alright? And you contribute already, and everyone loves you, and you're in the field all the time as it is with the paper. But I don't want you to be associated with us."

Harry tries not to be hurt, he _tries_ , but he's just really disappointed. Being around superheroes every day is thrilling and odd and incredible, but there's always that line that keeps him out of bounds, the one that normal humans can't cross. That keeps him in his trees and away from Louis when there's _real_ danger. "Is it the cool factor? 'Cause I'll have you know I was very _cool_ in Antarctica."

Louis pulls his hair hard for that pun. He bites his lip. "Well, yes, you will never be cool enough to hang out with any of us, but that's beside the point. I don't want you in danger. It's as simple as that. _Not_ because you can't handle yourself, but because it nearly killed _me_ last time."

He says it softly and with wide, serious eyes, and it strikes Harry that this knobhead could get away with murder. Like, he could tell Harry he finally snapped and murdered Nick and Harry would just offer to help him get rid of the evidence. "I still think you overreacted. I only got kidnapped the one time."

Louis' cute act is replaced by a deep scowl. "Yeah, because you were with me while I was in disguise. That's one time too many, Harold."

"But I wanted to have post-battle sex. You were all..." He gestures toward Louis' body, conveniently perched on his lap still. "With the adrenaline and the horniness."

"I had blood on me," Louis reminds him.

Please, he's got no chance of winning sympathy here. "I had a _plug_ in me, Louis, a plug which _you_ left in just when we got to the good part because you got The Call and had to fuck off and save someone."

"It was ten someones," Louis mumbles.

"You had me _handcuffed_ and _begging_ for it."

Louis gulps. Harry hopes he's remembering the way he pinned Louis, still in costume, still with a comm on him, to an alley wall and kissed him filthily in lieu of a hello. Hopes he remembers the way Louis' hands groped his arse and Harry moaned outright because he'd kept the plug in, just like Louis had made him promise. How Louis reversed their positions in a flash and started fucking him with the plug, just to see how much longer he could wait for a cock in him.

Yes, he hopes Louis is having all of that replaying in his head, because now Harry can't get it out and it was a very good night and what was his point?

Right, the kidnapping. It was totally insignificant compared to getting fucked hard in an alley. So a Management member saw them going home together, and snatched Harry the next day to their secret lair. It was terrifying, but not as much as getting shot. They didn't even torture him, probably too scared of Winger's wrath. They were just going for intimidation. "Swift was perfectly polite, too."

Louis looks at him with so much contempt Harry almost laughs. "Oh, yes, she's the sweetest supervillain. If that."

"You are just bitter because Swift's got super speed too."

Louis grabs Harry's shoulders suddenly and shoves him back so he's lying down. He's poised on top of him with a deceptively delicate hand on his chest, blue eyes fierce. Yeah, Harry's definitely struggling to remember his point. And to breathe. "I'm bitter because _Mildly Quick_ abducted my boyfriend on New Year's Eve of all days and made it mildly inconvenient to retrieve him, mostly due to me getting a fucking heart attack, _not_ to her cunning ways."

"Because you love me so much," he says. He has more ammo regarding that night, actually, remembers vividly Zayn telling him after the fact that Louis had actually cried, but he will never mock anyone for that shit.

"Yes," Louis agrees simply. "And that's why I don't want you running around battles with only your camera as a shield. I want you safe."

Fuck, intimacy and commitment get him so hard. He moves his hands to Louis' hips and pulls him down, so he's lying directly on top of him. Louis gasps and retaliates by slipping his hand under Harry's shirt to fondle him. "I wanna keep you safe, too," Harry whispers, hissing when Louis tweaks his nipple. "Don't wanna worry from the sidelines like a knob."

Louis kisses his neck sweetly, in contrast to the way he's twisting his nipple and grinding down on his dick. "It's not the sidelines. You're always at the secret superhero headquarters."

"Not always. Just when you're training. And Zayn and I wanna watch you guys get all sweaty and hot." He thinks maybe the last sentence could have been kept inside his head, but his brain-to-mouth filter is even worse than usual with Louis rubbing up against him.

It's sort of worth it for Louis laughing shakily in his ear. "You know you get a panoramic view at home."

Harry's eyes flutter shut; he can already see Louis' muscles working over him, his abs clenching when he thrusts inside him, his skin flushed and sweaty as he tries so hard to keep it slow. When he reopens his eyes a second later he and Louis are both fully naked, which is always a nice surprise. Louis isn't even smug, just kind of... desperate. "Fuck," Harry summarises.

Louis laughs again. "You do keep me safe, though," he says, like it's reasonable to have a serious discussion when they're naked in bed. "You give me a reason to stay safe. Someone to come home to."

 _So hard_ , oh god. "You say the sweetest things when you're horny."

"Loose lips."

Harry couldn’t have asked for a better opener. "I'll show you loose lips."

He flips them over and shoves Louis closer to the head of the bed, so he can spread Louis' legs and get at his hard cock. The fact that Louis isn't _inhumanly_ strong doesn't mean he doesn't work out for hours each day, whether he's training with Liam or fighting supervillains or chasing sources in the GMP. Louis’ definitely stronger than his yoga-loving walking-fire-hazard boyfriend, but he doesn't always remind Harry of it. He lets Harry pin him to things and move him around, because he knows it gets him excited. Or maybe it's the knowledge that he _could_ overpower Harry, even though he's twice his size, but chooses not to.

Maybe he'll ask him, when he doesn't have a cock in his mouth. Louis' hands immediately find their way to Harry's hair and tangle in his curls, guiding him down when he's just teasing the tip. Harry wraps his hand around the base of his cock and goes down as far as he can in one go, relishing Louis' moan. He's always so loud, when he's angry or annoyed or amused, but when he's turned on it's the absolute best.

Harry bobs his head in earnest, forgoing finesse because this isn't the endgame. Louis isn't complaining, certainly not when Harry sucks hard and tongues at his crown. "Fucking hell," Louis whispers, bucking his hips.

Harry opens his eyes and peeks up. It's a good thing that Louis' basically fucking his face now, as he can't really do much of anything when he looks at Louis. His muscles are drawn tight, back arched beautifully and his pink mouth slack with pleasure. He's bloody gorgeous.

So Harry pulls off abruptly.

Louis' eyes tear open and his hips are still stuttering up. His hands stroke down Harry's neck gently when he asks, "Did I hurt you, love?"

 _Oh god._ Harry leans back down to kiss Louis' shaft once, honestly meaning just to tease him, but then Louis sighs, "Good, that's so good Haz", and Harry was never strong enough for this teasing business. He's far too eager to please.

So he delays his plan for a bit, just until he's got Louis deep in his mouth and Louis' arching up again and groaning and tugging on Harry's hair. He pulls off just in time to finish Louis with his hand, and there's come all the way up to his ribcage, marking his tanned, flushed skin. Fucking Christ, he is beautiful.

Louis' dazed but he's still pawing at Harry, trying to pull him closer. Harry resists, though, somehow. He stumbles off the bed, dizzy and incredibly hard, much to Louis' complaining.

When he comes back, his camera is strapped around his neck.

Louis eyes him. He's probably going for _questioning_ or even _menacing_ , but with his fucked-out expression, he's delivering neither. "What are you doing?"

Harry settles back over Louis' amazing thighs, and turns the camera on. "So maybe I won't be much help in a fight. But I am getting my sexy calendar."

"Oh _god_ , you crazy sycophant."

He knows he means it lovingly. He kisses him thoroughly and then takes a picture of his bitten-red lips. This is going to be fun.

(He doesn't actually print a calendar of raunchy pictures of Louis.

Until their second anniversary. But by then it's a combination of him fucking Harry, fighting as Winger, and coupley pictures from their trip to Paris or their New Year's party at the new flat or the Halloween when Zayn made Harry his own superhero costume and he and Louis role-played for hours.

He's a big believer in documenting. It's his thing.

Not really, though. Louis' his thing. Louis and penguins.)

**END**

**Author's Note:**

> SURPRISE IT WASN'T LEAH IT WAS REN  
> [come say hi!!](http://loaded-gunn.tumblr.com/)


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